Love's Labors Two
by ijs1337
Summary: Axton figures out a few things about himself before he goes to fight the Warrior. And admitting them brings his old employers down on his head. And not just his, but his ex-wife's as well. When he learns of it, he has a question to ask himself: how far would he go to make up for past mistakes, and save the life of someone who he thought was out of his forever?
1. Prologue

**Note: This was an idea I had as a maybe character-specific post-campaign story. Specifically, one that focused on Axton and his ex-wife, and a more shadowy side to the Dahl Corporation, as well as demonstrating some character growth on the part of Axton. Mostly because, while his initial character of a glory-hound was admittedly funny, I never really liked it. I expected Axton to be the somewhat level-headed and responsible one of the Borderlands 2 four, but that turned out not to be the case. So I'm writing a story where he sort of becomes that guy. I own nothing relating to the Borderlands series, Gearbox does. Please review, comment, and even criticize if you feel so inclined. It lets me know people are interested in seeing the story continue.**

Love's Labors Two

Prologue

Axton sat in his bunk in the Crimson Raider HQ, holding an ECHO recorder. He stared at it for a long time before he finally pressed a button to activate it.

"Hey Sarah. It's, uh, it's me. I can't imagine you have the time to listen to this, or that you even want to, but I'm about to go off and fight a super powered god-like alien warrior, things are looking a little grim, and there are some things I have to say just in case." He sighed, and gathered his thoughts before continuing. "I just want to say, I figured it out, and that I'm sorry. I was a douche, and a glory hound, and I never really paid attention to the things that really mattered. I get why you broke it off, when you let me go. You broke it off because I was the guy I was. Because I never cared about anything but myself. And I'm sorry for that. I don't expect this to change anything, but… I just wanted you to know that I finally figured it out for real."

There was a quick thumping of footsteps and Salvador poked his head in the doorway.

"Whatever you're doing, hurry it up. We've got some pendejos to kill, and we're all waiting on you." He said.

"Jesus. Alright, I'll be right down." Axton grumbled.

Satisfied, Salvador went back down the steps.

"Sorry about that. And, y'know…everything else. Take care of yourself, Sarah." He tapped the button again to end the recording. He walked out onto the balcony and pressed another button, beaming the message out into space. To Themis.

**Endnote: I got the idea for the title from a work of Shakespeare, though I can't say I've ever read or seen Love's Labors. I used it partly as a joke, and as a indication of the overall theme of the story. Just in case anyone was wondering.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Note: We're taking a quick break from Axton to introduce the villain of the tale. Enter Thomas Mallory. In regards to Mallory, just picture a blond Michael Fassbender. In black combat armor. Cause black combat armor looks awesome. I own nothing relating to the Borderlands series, Gearbox does. Please review, comment, and criticize if you are so inclined. It lets me know to keep writing.**

Love's Labors Two

An Itch

Mallory took a step back from the man tied to the chair. He shook his hands, flicking spots of blood off them. He rubbed them for a few seconds, then groaned in exasperation.

"You know, conducting interrogation like this, it's really hard on both of us. You're getting beat to a pulp because you're too stupid not to tell us what we want to know, and I suffer some truly unfortunate side-effects from the beating." He reached to a table behind him and pulled a glass of water off it, taking a sip before placing it back down. "For instance, even with years of experience, it can be hard to punch someone properly. You overreach yourself, you can pull any number of things out of place. Me, I think a little disk on my back popped out about an hour ago. It's been sliding up and down ever since. Going to make sitting straight a very painful prospect. But it's not pulling things that's the worst part. No." Mallory held out his hands, covered by slightly armored fiber-weave gloves. "You see, when I hit you, the weave rubs up against my knuckles. After a couple punches, it starts to itch. We've been at this for a few hours now. It itches terribly. I can take that out-of-place disk in my back, but this itching… it's going to drive me mad."

He pulled back his right hand and drove it into the man's ribs. He felt a few crack beneath his fingers as the weave rubbed up again. He brought his left into the man's face and saw a tooth bounce off the wall. He let loose a few more punches before he leaned in. A knock sounded out behind him.

Mallory sighed.

"Don't go anywhere." He turned and went through the door. An aide was standing on the other side. "What is it?"

"Intel Division picked this up. I thought you might want to hear it." She tapped a button on an ECHO device.

After the message played, Mallory stood there, contemplating.

"Well, this certainly changes things."

"Yes sir."

"Do we know where it came from?"

"Pandora, sir."

"Pandora. Somehow, I'm not surprised he went there."

"Indeed sir."

"Are you going to end every sentence with 'sir?'"

"Most likely, sir."

"Cheeky. Get some people together. I want to see ten candidates for two retrieval teams in my office in one hour."

"Two retrieval teams, sir?"

"I think it might be prudent to gather some insurance before we go after the man himself."

"Insurance, sir?"

Mallory sighed. "The ex-missus, Sarah. The second team grabs her."

"What for, sir?"

"Have you ever read The Art of War? By some old Earth general in what used to be Asia. It's a fascinating piece of work. There's one line that is particularly pertinent. 'One mark of a great soldier is that he fights on his own terms, or fights not at all.' We need to make him come to us. We need to be great soldiers, and face him on our terms."

"That seems a bit…excessive, sir."

"Come on. Everyone here knows how he got loose in the first place. The fact that we know they've been in contact just gives us an excuse to act on that information. We're just doing our jobs, and getting two birds with one stone."

"If you say so, sir."

"I do. And seriously, stop with the sir-ing."

"Yes s-" She stopped midsentence as Mallory stared daggers.

"There. Was that so hard?"

"No."

"Glad to hear it. Get those people together. My office. One hour." Mallory turned back to the door. "And get someone to send down a bucket and some power couplings. I think this one will need more inventive methods to be convinced."

"Yes sir. Right away."

**Endnote: In regards to a review note on chapter length, I did my best to lengthen this one, but the prologue was intended to be a short, quick segue into the story, and I prefer to write chapters dedicated solely to a specific event within the story itself. I also feel like going for a 1k words-minimum in some instances with this sort of format just results in boring, poorly written filler(actually, I KNOW it results in that). So… yeah.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Note: Okay, back to Axton. In Sanctuary, relaxing at Moxxi's. By drinking. Just felt I should maybe clarify that. I own nothing relating to the Borderlands series; Gearbox does. Please review, comment, and even criticize. It helps me improve and know to keep writing.**

Love's Labors Two

Bar Tab

Axton drained his glass. He set it down on the bar then motioned Moxxi for a refill. He was, oddly enough, drinking alone this once. Maya and Lillith were talking about something Siren-related, while Mordecia was playing with his new baby bird. Brick and Salvador were getting up to their usual brand of trouble. Gaige was visiting Tina, and no-one was quite sure where Zer0 was, as usual. So Axton sat alone. And drank. Also alone.

He was on his fifth refill when he noticed a subtle change in the tone of the indiscernible bar chatter. Looking in the reflection of his glass, he could see five men in various colors of camouflage walk through the front doorway. They had a professional, deadly air about them. One of them stepped forward, drawing a pistol from his hip. It was a Dahl weapon.

The man reached Axton and quickly held the gun against his back.

"Last call, dickwad. Drink up." The man said. The four others turned and leveled their weapons on the rest of the patrons in the bar. Everyone else, in the process of getting up to defend one of the heroes who helped kill Handsome Jack, weighed the odds. One of the men held up a grenade and pulled the pin. The patrons remained standing, but no-one was foolish enough to go for a gun.

Axton sighed.

"Moxxi," he asked "that 'free drinks for life if you kill Jack' thing, does that cover damages too?" She gave him a quizzical, fearful look at how casually he was acting about all of this.

"I never really thought about it." She admitted.

"Well, if you decide damages aren't covered, put this on my tab."

He drank half of his glass, then spun around, knocking the pistol against his back out of place with his elbow. The forthcoming shot went completely wide, burying itself in the underside of the bar. Axton tossed the rest of his beer into the face of man behind him, then grabbed him and slammed his face down on the bar a few times. Picking up his empty glass, he smashed it into the face the closest of the threatening four, the one on his right. He drove the remaining half into the same guy's face to keep him down. Tearing the man's Dahl pistol from his holster as he crumpled to the floor, Axton fired in the burst-mode, letting the barely existent recoil drag the barrel up so that the third bullet took the man to the left straight in the forehead. Axton drew his hatchet and swung at the final man as he turned around, taking his hand clean off, still clamped on the grenade safety. Axton buried the hatchet in the last man's chest, driving him to the floor. He scanned the floor for the grenade pin and put it back in after about two minutes of searching.

"Not much to offer to pay for." Moxxi said. "Just lost one glass and have a bullet hole to buff out."

"Well, things could have been much worse." Axton replied. He walked over to the unconscious man lying facedown beneath the bar countertop.

"So, now what'll you do?" Moxxi asked.

"Now I get some answers."


	4. Chapter 3

**Note: Well. Holy hell, have I let this story wither. I have had my reasons (college, playing other games, getting used to playing games while going to college) but now, I'm finally playing Borderlands 2 again, and thus am inspired to work on this again.**

**Finally.**

**I do not own Borderlands, nor any affiliated characters. Please review and comment.**

Love's Labors Two

Chapter 3

It turned out that Dahl men were surprisingly tough to crack. Brick and Salvador had been taking turns in shifts to punch the guy in the face until he told them something, and so far all they'd gotten from him was a host of colorful insults. Salvador was in the middle of pulling a newly removed tooth out of his hand when the others pulled him out of the storage room in the back of Crimson Raider HQ.

"What's the problem?" He asked shortly.

"Well, we'd kinda like the guy to still be able to talk when he feels like it. You two punching his face into ground meat isn't conducive to him talking." Axton said.

"What can he tell you? You already know who sent him."

"I know what sent him. I know Dahl sent him. I don't who exactly sent him. And that is something I'd like very much to know. Hence, why I'd like him to be able to talk."

"You know, I am open to other forms of persuasion." The merc called from the room. He could see the Vault Hunters debating through the still-open doorway. "Like bribery. That might do it." The man's gaze focused on Axton. "Just don't think you can pawn that ring, old boy. Never liked diamonds, right?" The man was smirking, something knowing in his gaze.

Axton's face seemed to shut down, harden. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small leather bag.

"I'm going to need a few minutes alone with him." He stated, leaving nothing up for discussion. He quickly went to the door, then shut and locked it behind him.

They'd been putting up with the screaming for almost an hour. Not quite nonstop, but the lulls were so infrequent they almost didn't make a difference. Everyone just sat in a sort of awkward silence, unsure of what to do. Sure, the guy and his buddies had tried to jump Axton in the bar, had threatened a bunch of innocent people, but whatever was happening to him in the other room… Most of them were surprised Axton even knew enough to keep the guy screaming for five minutes, let alone forty-five.

"No. No, no please, noooAAAAGHGHGHGH!" The screaming slowly subsided into hushed gasping and what sounded like whispered words.

Lillith finally stood up.

"Alright, that's it. We gotta draw the line somewhere, and it sounds like we just hit the perfect place to draw it."

"Seriously?" Brick asked.

"We don't even know what this guy-"

Before Lillith could continue arguing, the door opened and Axton stalked out, heading straight for the steps. Looking in, Lillith could see a small leather bag, full of blades and knives of various types and sizes. The captive merc had long cuts running all over him, with a suspicious-looking slit opened over the crotch of his pants.

They all just stared. That Axton, the slightly, well, often extremely pigheaded turret-loving rifleman could be capable of this…

Axton came back up the steps, Insta-Health in one hand.

"So?" Lillith asked.

"So what?" Axton replied.

"So what did that poor bastard say that made you do that?"

"I needed to know-"

"Oh, don't give me that crap. He was here to bring you in. You probably guessed that the second you saw him. I want to know what it was he did that made you go _Hostel 48_ on him."

Axton sat himself down on one of the bunks and fingered the ring hanging from his neck. He looked contemplative. He never looked like that.

"That crack about diamonds. That's what set me off."

"Yeah, no shit. Why?"

"Cause the only reason he'd say that to me was if he'd been told to. And there's only reason I can think of that he'd be told to say that to me. A reason I had to be sure about. I'm sure now."

"What reason?"

Axton dropped his gaze, he was staring at the floor.

Everyone else was now getting seriously worried. In all the time they'd known him, he'd never acted anywhere near this serious. Maybe when Angel died, but that was it.

"I'm probably going to sound like an idiot for asking this, but who do they have?" Maya offered.

"Sarah. They've got Sarah."

Axton was packing. Shoving bullets, clips, gun parts, rations, and what looked like vomit bags into a large duffel bag. She couldn't understand why he was packing though. His wife now had an 'ex' in front of that title. And she could personally attest to the fact that he'd in some capacity moved on. So why on earth was he packing like he was about to go running off into the galaxy to save her?

"Ax, why are you packing?" She asked him.

"You know why. I'm going to get her."

"Get her?" She asked incredulously.

"Yeah."

"Where from? From what, from who?"

"Don't know yet. Doesn't matter either."

"Ax, I wasn't literally asking why you were packing."

He stopped and turned around.

"Then what are you asking?"

"I'm asking why are you bothering to play the damn white space-knight for the woman who left you."

"It's not about her, Maya."

"Then what is it about?" She threw her hands up in anger, exasperation.

"It's about me."

"Of course. Everything is, after all." She said sarcastically.

"Shit. That came out wrong, that wasn't how I meant it."

"Then how did you mean it?"

"It's about her and me."

"So what, you run off, rescue her from her bosses, she swoons and takes you back?"

"No. That's not-

"Then what?"

"It's because I put her there!" He yelled. Almost screamed. "Wherever she is, whatever's happening to her, it's on me. Because I was such a self-absorbed jackass she had to choose between ordering her husband's execution, or breaking all the rules to help him desert."

He'd slowly quieted as he ranted. Now she had to strain to hear him. He had his head titled down, palms braced against the table. "I'm doing this because she's going through what she's going through because she gave a stupid asshole a chance he didn't deserve. And now she's paying for it. That's why I'm packing. She deserves more than to get left to rot or executed by her douchebag of an ex."

She had to stop at that. Axton. Acting responsible. She wanted to pinch herself.

She let him keep packing for another minute before she finally managed to speak up.

"So, what's our plan?"

he stopped at that. Looked at her like she was crazy.

"Wait, 'our plan?'"

"Yeah. How are we getting wherever we need to go to?"

"WE?" He asked incredulously.

"Me and you. Zero, and Sal and Gaige too, if they're game. Maybe that Krieg guy, if he ever comes back."

Axton was shaking his head.

"There's no 'we' in it, Maya. This is my life, my mess, my responsibility to fix it. And I'll be damned if-" She cut him off by punching him hard in the gut. "What the hell was that for?"

"I thought I might be dreaming. So I punched you to make sure I wasn't."

He groaned in pain and exasperation. "That's not how it-"

"Also, now I know you probably aren't some weird imposter. Acting all out-of-character, responsible and concerned."

"Very funny. But seriously. None of you are coming."

"Why?"

"Cause I don't want any of you to get killed trying to help clean up my mess of a life."

"Give us a little credit, Ax. We took down Hyperion."

"Yeah. Hyperion was a bunch of dumbass robots and engineers with shit training and high tech guns. You'd all be going up against Dahl. That's a very different thing."

"Company loyalties playing on you?"

"No. Like I said. Hyperion: Dumbass bots and engineering majors with guns. What do you think Dahl is?"

"I dunno."

He sighed. "A whole army of me's. Only they actually take orders. And are good at working together."

"Guess what? None of us are going to care." She stepped closer, put a hand on his arm. "We're your friends, Ax. This is what friends do. Help each other out when someone's personal shit hits."

He finally hung his head in defeat. Reached up and slowly grasped her hand.

"Fine. I'll put the word out, see if I can't get someone with a ship who owes me to come pick us up tomorrow."

She could tell he'd needed some space that night, so they'd taken separate bunks. The second she woke up and saw his was empty, she knew she'd made a mistake.

"That son of a bitch."

**In case anyone doesn't quite get it, Axton half-castrated the guy.**

**Given that the story is supposed Axton growing into a somewhat responsible person who can be concerned about people other than himself, he's totally going to sneak off and do something personal and dangerous and leave his friends behind and safe. Also, if anyone didn't pick up on it already, Maya and Axton are an item here. Cause soldiers and sirens just seem to go well together.**

**Why not Zero, I hear some of you asking?**

**Because Zero is either so badass and mysteriously mysterious/awesome he doesn't have the time/need to pursue a relationship, or I save him for Angel (I'll go down on that ship. Playing this :** ** watch?v=0uc01ASDJT8)**


	5. Chapter 4

**Note: not much to say here. Beyond that you ought to prepare for violence.**

**I don't own Borderlands. Please review and comment.**

Love's Labors Two

Frozen Urban Hellhole

Private Kincaid couldn't remember where everything went wrong.

Barely a minute ago, they'd been on routine recon, quietly joking with each other.

They'd bitched about the wind, and the cold and the snow.

Willard had pulled out a picture his son had sent him, and they'd launched on a tangent about Bert's illiteracy.

Then…

Everything was fuzzy, indistinct. He felt like he'd seen Bert go flying through the air.

Why couldn't he focus? Why was everything so blurry?

His gaze slowly sharpened. He was on top of the husk of a car. Mitchell was on the ground, a few feet from him, a rifle barrel aimed at his face.

Insurgent ambush. Had to be.

There was a loud crack and the back of Mitchell's head exploded. Kincaid drew a sharp, angry breath in. That was his mistake.

The locals were on him, yelling in their language, this one was still alive. One of them reached over to pull him off the car.

There was a series of gunshots, and the one insurgent dropped dead, head bouncing off the door.

Kincaid shifted, gazing in the direction of the shots. A lone soldier, done up in full survival gear, right down to the snow hood, charged in. A quick burst sent another insurgent toppling to the snow-covered road. All the other ones started firing at the newcomer. He slid into place behind another husk of a car, peeking out to take potshots. Kincaid slowly rolled himself off of the car, falling onto the body of an insurgent. He grasped for the man's rifle, pulling it out from under the body. Yanking the slide back, he crawled his way to the side of the bunch hiding behind the back end of a truck. He simply aimed at their legs from his prone position and opened fire, sweeping the unfamiliar rifle, Vladof work, he realized back and forth. The bullets tore into the legs of several insurgents, and the few who didn't get hit ran out of cover. Straight into the other guy's line of fire. Looking back, Kincaid saw one last local creeping up. Apparently, he hadn't been the only one today to think of sneaking around the side.

"Behind you!" He yelled.

The soldier spun and fire from the hip. The shots went wide, but it was all the man needed. He ran forward and drove the butt of his rifle into the insurgent's face. Bringing the rifle around again, the insurgent found himself with two bullets in his forehead.

The soldier was approaching Kincaid now.

"233rd?" the soldier called.

Battalion numbers.

"Yeah," Kincaid answered. "You?"

"107th."

"Thanks for the help."

"Happy to."

The soldier was standing over him now. He reached down and helped Kincaid to his feet.

"Got a name?" Kincaid asked.

"Brooks. Private."

"Well, thanks again Brooks."

"Don't mention it."

Brooks walked off to start collecting supplies and tags from the bodies, and Kincaid was struck by a feeling of familiarity. He felt he'd met Brooks somewhere before, but not only could he not think where, he knew it wasn't possible.

* * *

They were sitting around a low-powered thermocell twenty minutes later. They'd done up the bodies of Kincaid's squad, and were celebrating their survival with a meal of Dahl-brand soldiering goop. It was wet, chunky paste in a little tin. Didn't taste like anything, and was supposedly one of the most nutritious and simultaneously calorie-packed foods in existence. It wasn't that good. But it was better than being dead.

There wasn't much noise except the scraping of sporks against the tin containers, and a wet swallowing. After a few more minutes, Brooks finally started talking.

"So how long you been stationed here?" Brooks asked.

"Been here since the start. 223rd was the vanguard, tip of the spear, some bullshit like that." Kincaid said derisively. "How 'bout you? When did you get here?"

"Just transferred in. My unit was mopping up in the Centauri cluster, and the 107th was a few men short."

"So where's the rest of your squad, then?"

Brooks simply supplied a look. He hadn't taken off anything except the scarf around his mouth and nose, which themselves were enveloped in a craggily beard. Everything else was covered by goggles and a hood. Kincaid found that a little odd considering that they were huddled around a thermocell, but Brooks had just transferred. Most people took a week at least to get used to the temperature, and even then, it was so cold that bitching about it never got annoying or tired.

"Sorry." Kincaid offered. Losing people was always hard. There was nothing in Brooks' character to suggest he liked the people he'd worked with, but no soldier Kincaid had ever met didn't appreciate sympathy.

"Thanks."

They kept poking at the goop in their tins. Brooks flicked a little onto the thermocell and smirked at how it produced a small gout of blue flame. It was trick people learned quickly to entertain themselves. But it didn't speak much for the stuff that they still swallowed into their bodies.

"From what I've heard," Brooks started, "You 223rd had a bit of interesting problem few months back."

"Yeah. Guy in the battalion got discharged. Was supposed to be executed, but he got away before they could bring him in, somehow."

"Who was he?"

"Name was Axton. Guy was a bit of a… well, If we're being honest, he was quite the ass. But he was good. Showboat and a jackass, sure, but he was a damn good soldier. Good man, too. Knew when to shut up, shut down, and act serious. Wasn't often, but it was enough to know he actually cared. Shame he had to leave."

"Sounds like he was a good guy."

"Yeah. He was, I guess. Whatever else he was." Kincaid thought for a second, then continued. "You remind me of him. When he got serious, that is."

"Can't think why."

"Yeah. Probably nothing."

They spooned a few more mouthfuls of goop in.

"So, I'm not saying you're a man with his ear to the gossip vine, but I heard some rumors about Axton and-"

"Yeah, Axton and the commander. They didn't exactly make a secret of it. They were careful not to draw too much attention to it, but they never cared that we knew."

Technically, enlisted men and women, or enlisted anything, weren't supposed to get together in any capacity beyond the professional. But Dahl had long since accepted the fact that there wasn't much of an stable alternative for the people it employed, and so never took too much care to enforce that particular rule. "Funny thing though. Axton runs off, and a few days ago, some suits from IA come in, take the commander up for a friendly chat."

Brooks tensed. No one else probably would have noticed, but Kincaid had spent a lot of time around soldiers, so he could tell when one was bothered by something.

"You think she helped Axton escape?" Brooks asked. He sounded slightly worried.

"Doesn't matter what I think. Matters what the IA boys think."

"It does matter. What you think, I mean."

Kincaid sighed.

"I don't know. I don't think it's right to ask a wife to order her husband's execution, no matter how much of an ass the guy is. I know what I'd do if I were in her place."

"Yeah. So do I."

There was a sound of jostling snow and rocks. A figure tumbled out from behind a wrecked car. It was wearing a black and grey suit, head covered completely by a black helmet. It pointed a long sword straight at Brooks.

"Found you." The newcomer said, voice distorted.

Kincaid was training his rifle on the new arrival when something clicked in his mind. Brooks' seeming familiarity, his questions. This guy with the sword, who Kincaid now recognized. One of the Vault Hunters who killed the President of Hyperion. Vault Hunters who were working with a rogue Dahl soldier. Working with-

Brooks turned and slammed the butt of his rifle into Kincaid's face, knocking the man out cold. He reached up and shoved his hood down and tore the goggles from his face.

"Just had to blow my cover, didn't you?" Axton said angrily.

* * *

A stranger walked into Moxxie's. That in itself was odd enough; most people who could get to Sanctuary were people everyone else knew already. But the man was an absolute oddity. He was wearing clothes similar to the Vault Hunter Axton, only almost all dark black. Bright glowing blue lines stood out, highlighting various bits of the outfit. A crisscross of digital camouflage and CPU lines ran over the outfit. The man's face was as odd as his uniform. Slightly old, just in his fifties, with the same CPU lines, probably some sort of cybernetics, running all over his otherwise unmarked features.

"Excuse me," the stranger said, surprisingly soft-spoken. "I'm looking for a couple Vault Hunters. The ones who killed Handsome Jack."

The stranger smirked slightly as every Crimson Raider in the bar, which was just about everyone, turned and pointed a weapon at him.

"Last bunch who came in asking after Vault Hunters didn't have the most friendly of intentions, pal. And they didn't end up very well off. Why don't you leave before something bad happens to you too?" One of the Raiders asked.

"Well, I don't see how something bad could happen. The only thing that's changed since I walked in is that a bunch of amateurs are pointing guns at me."

That gave everyone pause.

"Amateurs?" Another Raider asked angrily.

"Well, yeah." The stranger said. He turned to the Raider directly at his left. "Take you, for instance. Holding that gun sideways. You can't aim it, and it'll eject the shell casing right into your face."

The Raider wasn't holding his pistol sideways. He was holding it perfectly vertical.

"I'm not holding it sideways, asshole."

"Yeah you are. Look."

The stranger lunged, grabbing the Raider's arm and twisting it, turning the weapon sideways. He fit his hand over the Riader's and fired the gun into the ceiling. The shell casing shot out and hit the Raider in the eye.

The stranger turned, gun arm still in his grasp and began firing and reloading at a blinding pace, blowing out the kneecaps of the other Raiders in the bar, all too stunned to react quick enough. In a few seconds, over twenty men were sprawled on the floor, groaning in pain. The stranger forced the Raider in his grasp to spin around, then shoved him and blew his kneecaps out. Tossing the pistol aside he approached the bar.

"Any chance you'll be a bit more civil than these gentlemen, and tell me where the Vault Hunters went when they left Pandora?" The stranger asked.

Moxxie yanked a large, bright red Hyperion shotgun out from under the bar. She was setting the sights on the man when he rushed forward so fast he became a blur.

Suddenly he was at the bar. His hand shot out and grabbed the gun's barrel. He yanked forward, pulling Moxxie hard into the edge of bar, driving the breath out of her lungs. He twisted, getting a better grip on the barrel and forced it backward, smacking her in the face. She stumbled back into the shelves of drinks and saw him pointing her own gun at her face when her vision regained clarity.

He pumped the slide. "I'm not going to ask again." His voice had somehow gotten softer, barely discernable over the music of the bar. But it had also gotten harder. His face looked like a cross between pure anger and death.

"They were following some ECHO signal soldier-boy sent out a few months ago. Some iceball called Themis." Moxxie admitted angrily.

The stranger clicked the safety on and set the shotgun down on the bar.

"Thanks for your cooperation." He said pleasantly. He turned and walked towards the door leading to the alley. He was halfway to it when he stopped and yanked a Raider off the floor and spun, holding the Raider in front of his body to block the blast from Moxxie's shotgun. He turned and ran as he dropped the body, heading for the fast travel station.

* * *

He was almost running to his ship. Almost, but not quite. Eager to be underway, to get his news out and get permission to act.

"You were right, sir. The Vault Hunters have gone to Themis. That's where he's gotta be. Yes sir, my team will be ready to go as soon as I get back. Don't worry, sir. We'll get him. One way or another."

**Okay, I kinda stole that last bit from Person of Interest (which everyone should watch, by the way). But, you have to admit, it was awesome. Speaking of, for this Dahl stranger, just go ahead and picture Jim Caviezel. There's really no substitute when your aping on the character of John Reese in any capacity. And in case it wasn't quite clear, said Dahl stranger was basically wearing the Advanced Warfare uniform. Also, on Themis being an ice planet, it was only ever described by name, and it being an ice planet is a good excuse for Axton to come up with an easy way to disguise himself (he's a wanted man, after all) with the outfit of the Snowblind head.**

**I also thought that having Axton be in disguise and not immediately identify him as such would allow for interesting opportunities. Like the chance to get a totally honest opinion about himself from an old associate. **


	6. Chapter 5

**Note: Word of warning to all. This might (emphasis on MIGHT) be the last update for a while. Final projects abound, and other games besides Borderlands 2 coming out are the main reasons. I'll do my best to make sure this story doesn't wither and die, but that's the problem with video game fanfiction: inspiration and the drive to write depends on playing the game the fic comes from. Not totally, just mostly. **

**So, enough house-keeping. On with it. I do not own Borderlands. Please review and comment.**

Love's Labors Two

Between a Gun and a Dead Place

"So how did you know where to find me?" Axton asked shortly. He was dividing his attention between giving each of the Vault Hunters scathing looks and tying up Kincaid.

"Wasn't that hard," Maya offered. "We found that ECHO in your stuff, the message was still on it, and we could trace where you sent the copied signal to."

"Knew I should have dumped that thing." Axton said to himself.

"Well forgive me if I'm glad you didn't."

"What are you even doing here?"

"You really need to ask that?" She asked incredulously.

"No, I just want to here someone say it out loud so I know exactly what to say as a rebuttal."

"Fine. We came here to help."

"Thanks very much. You can help by leaving and staying safely out of this." Axton said firmly.

"No one here is leaving." Salvador cut in. "We're here to help, whether you like it or not amigo."

"I'd say exactly what I just said, but I'll just ask you to repeat what I just said in your heads and save us all the tedium of actually hearing it again." Axton finished yanking the knot tight. It wasn't a Dahl knot-job. He wouldn't take that risk. Roland had showed him a few obscure Crimson Lance tricks in the time they'd known each other, and a few ridiculously complex knots were among those tricks, next to the secret of winning Quarters and a way to program an ECHO device to self-destruct when played.

"What crawled up your ass and died, dude?" Gaige asked angrily.

"An absolutely horrendous parasite called 'a sense of responsibility.'"

"Your meaning is vague/Intensions remain unclear/Spit it out asshat." Zer0 said, his helmet displaying an angry face ':('.

"How'd you even… nevermind. You say you're all helping me because we're all friends? That helping out is what friends do? Well that's what I'm doing by asking you to not help."

"Oh, of all the bullshit-" Maya began

"Friends don't let friends risk their lives to clean up the shit life mistakes of a friend." Axton said. He reached down and hoisted Kincaid onto his shoulders. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to have a chat with an old pal." He was about to walk away when he saw the looks on the others' faces. "Relax, not _that _kind of chat. I'm literally just going to talk to him."

* * *

Kincaid woke up when a splash of water landed on his face. Actual water was somewhat uncommon on Themis beyond camps. So he was either back with the battalion or…

"Hey. Up here."

Or still with Axton. He couldn't believe he hadn't figured it out sooner. The way 'Brooks' had fought, the questions he'd asked, things he'd said. All he'd needed to do was break out his old Sabre turret to give himself away completely.

"Come on Kincaid, focus. I didn't hit you that hard."

"You didn't need to hit me at all." Kincaid groaned. He tried to bring his arms around to get up off the ground, but found he couldn't. Looking behind himself, he saw they tied, and not in any way he recognized, not in any way he could wriggle out of. "Guess your time on Pandora fostered some trust issues, eh Ax?"

"Can't be too careful with company men these days Kincaid. Professional caution, nothing personal."

"Like I said. Trust issues."

"Yeah, maybe. Listen, I just need you to tell me something. I'd prefer to not-"

"I don't know where the IA guys operate out of. Their ship might still be in orbit, but if they left, I don't know where they'd have gone. You could run an ion trail scan, maybe follow it."

Axton was dumbstruck. He just stood there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish for half a minute while he processed the fact that Kincaid had volunteered such information freely.

"Why would you tell me that?" Axton finally asked.

Kincaid sighed. "For one, I don't like those suits coming in and making off with the Commander. You out to get her back, go get her with my blessing. But that's not the whole reason."

"What's the whole reason, then?"

"Remember when you got transferred to the 107th? I was advising to Sarah at the time, this was before that little _incident_ on Hades. Your CO in the 509th said it was shame to see you go. Sarah asked why. You had a reputation, even then. And you know what Montgomery said to her? "That soldier I gave you is a great soldier. A great man too. And one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one." I'm looking at you now Ax, and I think somewhere along the line, we all got very, very lucky. And a good man is the kind of man I want to help."

* * *

"So what, we just wait for him to come back and yell at us some more?" Gaige asked angrily to nobody in particular.

"He wasn't exactly yelling." Maya offered.

"Wow. He that good in bed, you can defend him when he's being a stubborn, stuck-up jackass?"

"Shut up."

Salvador smirked, blew a quick burst of cigar smoke from his mouth, and went back to futilely trying to best Zer0 at Ro-Sham-Bo. He'd lost the last fifty games they'd played.

He pounded his fist into his palm, and his eyes lit up. He was coming down with rock. Zer0 had scissors. He was finally going to win.

Then a volley of bullets slammed into his hand.

Zer0 quickly shoved Salvador down behind the ruins of a car and went invisible, running (hopefully) in the direction of the attackers. Sal jammed a Insta-Health into his arm and watched his hand grow back into proper shape. He reached into his pack to grab a second gun and came up with a high-powered Jakobs rifle. Grinning, he popped up from behind the car.

"VAMANOS, PU-"

He was interrupted by being driven to the ground by a stream of bullets to his arms and chest. The rounds had cut right through his shield. He might as well have taken the thing off for all the good it had done him. He was stumbling to his feet when he saw a figure looming over him. Then a boot being raised.

"Mierda."

* * *

Zer0 was quickly dashing around the side of the attackers, invisible, unheard. He saw Salvador get stomped in the face and quickened. He was almost behind them know. He tightened his grip on his sword. Rounding a small pile of rubble he-

Got tackled by a black-uniformed Dahl soldier. A hard punch drove into his ribs, and a unreasonably large combat knife swung out and knocked his sword from his grip. Zer0 retaliated by thrusting his fingers at the soldier's throat. The man stopped, gasping for a second or two, and that was all Zer0 needed. By the time the recovered, he faced a very different problem. Having a sword buried in his chest. He dropped to his knees and shook in a slight fit. Zer0 began to draw the blade out.

The soldier reached up and grabbed the blade, keeping it firmly embedded in his body. Zer0 tugged, but the soldier's grip was like iron. Footsteps drew Zer0's attention from the dying man with surprising will.

He turned just in time to see a bright glowing device jam into his neck. He dropped to the ground, twitching and spasming in the throes of nerve-electrocution.

* * *

Gaige quickly digi-structed Deathtrap into the fight. And just as quickly lost him. A series of blue flashes and shrieks sounded, and Deathtrap had large black darts sticking to him all over. Suddenly, the darts glowed and electricity arced over and into the robot, who jerked and shuddered and moaned in pain. In a few seconds, most of his systems gave out from overload and he collapsed to the ground in a smoking heap.

Gaige clenched her cybernetic fist and ran at the soldiers, intending to pound their faces in. One of them raised a shotgun-wait, shotgun? Dahl made shot-

The barrel flashed and she was on the ground, feeling like she had just been hit by a Badass Psycho. Her gaze rested on her proud yet utterly defeated robot. She thought she saw him reach toward her.

A rifle butt slammed into her head and everything went dark.

* * *

Maya dove behind a ruined pillar, scrambling up against it. She drew a shock pistol from her holster and felt a tingling run down her arm as she prepared to phaselock-

A black-gloved fist came out of nowhere and knocked her to the ground. She thrust her hand out, energy flowing.

A series of bullets tore right through her shields and into her arm. She felt her control over the energy waver. A needle jammed into her neck, and the world slipped away in a blurry haze.

* * *

Axton heard gunfire coming from back at the camp. He turned and cut Kincaid loose with his hatchet.

"Just get out here." He said.

"What about you?"

"I'm going to help them."

* * *

Axton was creeping through the ruins of a nearby building. They were all down. Sal, Zer0, Gaige, Maya. Well, not down exactly. They were all standing, if a little hunched over, with their hands bound behind their backs. Except in Gaige's case. Her cybernetic arm had been detached from her, presumably so she couldn't summon up Deathtrap. A man with graying hair stood at the forefront of the group of black-clad soldiers.

SO Division, Axton realized. Special Operations.

The graying man tapped something on his shirt, then his voice seemed to ring out, amplified.

"It's no use hiding, Ax. For one, we've got the one other bunch of people you'd do something horribly stupid for. Two, hiding isn't going to do you any good."

Ax shifted slightly, preparing to run.

"Why's that?" He called, and quickly dashed out and around the building, so that he wouldn't be there when the search party came.

"Well, I could tell you, but it's always better to show."

There was a faint roaring that grew steadily louder. Three large black Dahl gunships burst through the cloud cover overhead, sweeping penetrating scanner beams.

"You can make this easy, Ax. Or you can make this hard."

Peeking around a corner, he saw the man holding a pistol to Maya's head.

The man smirked as Axton approached, rifle held clip-up over his head.

"Very good, Ax. Now drop it."

Axton tossed the rifle down in front of the man.

"You led us on a merry chase, Ax, but that's over. Time to come in."

The man holstered his pistol and walked up, inspecting Axton.

"Well you sure aged better than I did, you lucky asshole."

What?

"Do I know you?" Axton asked.

The man smiled sadly.

"Not anymore. Dalton, Captain. I'd say I'm at your service, but it's rather the other way-"

"Listen, just shoot me and get it over with. But let them go." Axton gestured to the Vault Hunters. To his friends.

Dalton shook his head.

"No can do. On either count. You're a bit too valuable to let go, and we need a way to make sure you don't pull any of your mildly infamous tricks on us. My advice old pal? Just accept the fact that you lost this round. It'll make everything much easier."

Suddenly, the gunship at the back of the formation exploded, spiraling towards the ground. A figure, rippling with muscle, his torso grotesquely stretched, leaped up to the tumbling wreck and charged across its length. As he reached the nose he jumped, flying through the air towards the nearest intact gunship. Lifting the blood-stained, dynamite-strapped blade high, he brought it down into the cockpit. Down and through, the blade driving through the thick glass and shield of the pilot. The blade was yanked back, tearing the body from its seat. A meaty hand yanked the pins on the few grenades doting the body, and then it was sailing into the hold of the final gunship, which was summarily consumed in a gout of bullets and fire. Leaping from his twirling vehicle, the warrior slammed his weapon straight into the head of the soldier beneath him. He yanked the blade out and swung it around several more times, slicing half a dozen troops to wet red ribbons before the blade got slightly caught in the chest of a particularly beefy soldier.

"I stared into the heart of darkness! AND I ATE IT ALL!" Krieg screamed to the heavens as he tore his buzz-axe free and waved it over his head, showering himself in blood and chunks.

**Well, how else can you introduce a guy like Krieg, but with complete randomness and excessive violence? You can't. That's how. Also, as to how Krieg decimates them when they handed everyone else their asses: Krieg is the Honey Badger of Borderlands. When you don't care about getting hurt, you can do just about anything. Especially if you're a mutated super-strong psychopath with a dynamite-strapped axe. As far as stuff that isn't Krieg, I was really excited writing the Dahl SO Division men and women kick ass. It struck me that the strategy of pretty much every enemy faction in Borderlands so far was to throw as many people with guns as possible at the problem until said problem died. Just throw everything en masse. So I wondered how someone would fight with a style of highly-technological actual strategy. What would happen if someone actually planned out beforehand how to disable opponents. Granted, there was probably a bit too much rifle-butt smashing, but it's worked in reality for hundreds of years. No reason it should stop working when guns shoot fire.**

**As far as Dalton apparently knowing Axton of old…no comment.**


End file.
